We Could Fix This
by LostHeroGuide
Summary: Percy was a nobody. Annabeth is a somebody. They used to have something, and then it ended. Then suddenly it started up again. Featuring Pizzaguy!Percy, a party only the Stolls could make, and a midnight philosophical Annabeth. T because of drug use, and implications of abuse.


**Long time no see, huh? So I'm going to try one-shots, and a few two-shots before delving back into big time stories. Working on more H &G, so be patient. Thank you guys for the support! You Rock!**

 **Annabeth:**

"Hey Annabeth!"

I turned away from my locker, closing it quickly before Piper can see inside. I put back on my smile, reconstructing my 'happy' walls quickly and hope she doesn't notice.

Turns out I didn't have to. She's already passed by me, now talking with Jason as they go to Chemistry together. Although Piper had a bit of a wild side, she would be fifteen minutes early to class if her boyfriend was going there. Annabeth rolled her eyes. _What an old married couple._

She readjusted her backpack strap, gripping onto it with her left hand. She took a steady breath getting ready. She had to hope no one asked anything too sensitive today, but really that was like any other day.

Right on the edge of a panic attack.

"Hey Annabeth!"

"You going to the game tonight?"

"How's it going?"

"You still going to Homecoming?"

"Can't wait for the debate next week!"

"How's student government?"

It was like this up until the bell rang. It always is. Someone walks up to me, asks me a few questions, I answer, and I keep going.

Yes, I'm popular. Not to sound ungrateful or self centered, but it's the truth. Freshman year rolled around and my small group of friends grew bigger, then I expanded outwards. I guess it really is survival of the fittest. When middle school ended I cut my extra baggage.

I winced involuntarily at the thought. _He_ wasn't extra baggage.

First period AP Biology rolls around, and I go through it in a bit of a daze. The teacher asks if everything is alright, which is more than my 'friends' really ask me (besides maybe Piper) and I reply politely that everything is okay. He nods quickly, letting me go to my next class and dismissing the subject completely.

I don't see him today on my way to second, which just tells me that I'm not looking close enough. He taught me that, back in middle. How to disappear in an instant and leave people wondering where he'd gone. I expect that's why the only reason I see him is when he's going slow, looking down at the floor, preoccupied. I don't think I'd see him any other way.

I get into second period, finding myself sitting in the front row again. Piper smiles at me from a few desks over, then pulls out her phone and quickly shows it to me. Not even a minute later my phone goes off.

 _Piper:_

 _Today Jason..._

That's how almost every text starts now. 'Today Jason' did this, or 'Today Jason' did that. I roll my eyes but smile anyway. It'd be selfish if I thought any other way, and that's not who I am. Not anymore. After her little story I wait for the teacher to launch into another rant.

 _Annabeth:_

 _That's cute. How was your date last night?_

Another rant and a few more texts and I get the comment I'd been dreading, but was unsurprised by.

 _Piper:_

 _I can't hang out tonight. Jason is coming over after the game tonight._

I sighed, but text her that it's okay. Glancing over I can tell her mind is still on her boyfriend, the way her eyes seem unfocused and she still has the dopiest grin on her face. I rolled my eyes again, but sucked any unkind thoughts away. Piper, although horrible at making time for me, was still my best friend. I have to suck it up. Just like how she sometimes did when I was with Luke.

The rest of second flew by in a blur. My neck was unusually stiff as I walked out of the classroom, and I tried to massage the tension away. I tilted my head only slightly to the left.

And that's all it took to see him.

For someone who wears that sagging blue hoodie and jeans, you'd think he'd be more noticeable. But no, I remember how he'd be able to disappear down a hallway without changing a thing in his pace or look. He looked like he'd simply _willed_ it, and it would happen. If high school didn't work out, maybe he could be a spy.

Head bowed towards the ground and backpack with his skateboard attached to the side on his back. I couldn't see his face, as usual. I haven't gotten a good look at it since seventh grade, though. It would surprise me if anyone had besides his mother.

His hand reach upwards and for a moment I thought he was going to throw his hood back, but I should've known better. His hand disappeared inside the hood, swiping a loose lock of hair away. I caught a glimpse of dark, ebony strands that gleamed under the harsh lights, but that was it. A glimpse.

With a start I realized that he was walking towards me. He'd pass right by me, and then he'd disappear again, right down the other hallway to whatever class might have piked his interests.

Would it have been hard to just reach out and touch him? To put a reassuring hand against his arm to let him know... Something? Anything from me? When he'd pass by, I could just stick my hand out and stop him. Feel his stomach resist my hand for a moment before he realized he was being stopped.

Maybe I could get a longer, fuller look at his hair, or his eyes that sometimes seemed to glow from under his hood. He'd be hesitant, but frozen as well. He wouldn't move, and I'd... What? What could I do or say to make him feel better?

As he got closer, I felt any confidence I had on the subject falter. Yes, he was barely a foot in front of me, but the gap between us was undeniable. He stood at one end and I'm on the other. If I tried to build a bridge, I know it would be smashed to pieces.

As he walked past, though, I still smell _him_. That constant smell of sea salt and Chocolate chip cookies that lingered after all these years, never changing. How that happened, I'm not sure, but he's always been like that. A constant. An immovable rock that stubbornly clung to the seashore, chipped away a little bit more, day by day.

I hadn't realized that I'd been standing in the middle of the hall for so long until the bell rang again. I blinked, then checked my phone. Four different texts, all invites to specific lunch tables. I sighed, scanning them, but decided against it. Seeing _him_ always did this to me. I want to feel the isolation. Understand why he does it.

Even as I approach the lunchroom I can hear the laughter and the talking, echoing through the hallways and into my ears. They get mixed up in my head, constantly leaving a ringing in them. I shake my head, trying to filter the noises. Maybe that's one of the reasons. He never liked people talking over each other.

I grab a slice of pizza today, along with some spring water. I'm quick to thank the lunch ladies, although they never usually cared. Instead, I gather my food and begin to trek towards the football bleachers. Some curious students look towards me, causing my eyes to roll. One of my 'friends' raises an eyebrow as I pass, probably wondering g if I'd be sitting next to him. I pass by swiftly.

The bleachers were empty today, but that's why it's my own 'isolated' spot. No one enjoys sitting on hot metal in September, and no one in their right mind would check for me here.

Still, it had its advantages beyond isolation. The view was spectacular, on some places I could see the rooftops of houses and even the school. Seemingly unenjoyable, yet with hidden surprises that seemed to brighten your day. It was a perfect representation of _him._

At one point my phone went off again, and although I wished I could turn it off and avoid the responsibilities I might have, I still found myself checking it.

 _Piper:_

 _Where r u?_

It didn't even sound that interesting. She was obviously just trying to be polite, looking for a familiar face in a familiar crowd. As expected, she didn't text back until lunch had almost ended.

 _Piper:_

 _You okay?_

I sighed, but replied, not wishing to worry my friend.

 _Annabeth:_

 _Just doing extra credit. History grade is dropping._

A blatant lie, but not at all impossible (although some would argue that claim). I just wanted to know: what would she reply with? Maybe an emoji, totally pointless, or a simple 'k' that meant nothing.

I realized that's what I would get today: nothing.

...

Third period was when it began.

Ten minutes in, not a single word from me. Those who spoke to me regularly raised eyebrows, but none of them thought to ask what was wrong. In fact, a few of them pulled out phones and took pictures, texting them across the school. Within thirty minutes, everyone would be asking the same question:

What is Annabeth Chase, the most popular, beautiful girl in Junior class moping about?

I rolled my eyes, but stuck to flicking my pen around my desk. They could spread rumors today. I wasn't going to try and stop them this time.

But ten minutes into silent reading and the door opens. As expected, even from me, everyone put down their books and chose to find entertainment in this unexpected interruption. Our teacher, Mr. Blofis, tore his gaze from his own book to handle whatever might be happening.

So while everyone might've gone back to reading when they realized it was just another student transferring into the class, I found myself unable to breath. Because I knew that blue hoodie. I recognized the slouch as he stood or the way his head was still tilted downwards.

He walked quickly, yet his footfalls made barely a whisper on the carpeted floor. I was once again astounded by his grace- the way he sometimes seemed to walk through walls and disappear in the blink of an eye. As he reached Mr. Blofis' desk, his left hand retreated to his pocket, pulling out a bright orange slip of paper.

A class transfer slip.

Mr. Blofis took it when it was offered, but with a curious raise of his eyebrow. I noticed how even as he turned towards his computer to confirm that this student was indeed transferring, he shot a glance or two in his direction. Judging by how he'd readjust his backpack and shift from one foot to the other, I'd guess he noticed.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of staring, Mr. Blofis cleared his throat loudly, and I realize he's looking towards me. I blush, noticing that he too is now tilting his head towards me, putting me in his peripherals. I quickly pick up my own book, flipping to the page I was on last night.

But even though my eyes are useless, my hearing is perfectly fine. Filtering out the noise of whispers and turning pages, I can just barely hear the shuffling of foot to foot. The satisfied grunt from a deep throat, obviously the teacher's. A silent command to take a seat, and the slow, methodical noise of his converse walking in my direction.

My book is my last priority as he walks past, because my senses are in overload again. That _smell_ that he leaves behind, taunting me. Reminding me of the most comforting moments of my life, turned bitter by my own idiocy.

He does that to me. Strips me of the pride I have and shows me the truth. I am an idiot.

There's no offer of introduction because this is high school. Everyone knows everyone, and friendship isn't hard to come by. But I _know_ him. As deeply as he's been ingrained into me, I believe I've ingrained myself into him. To get there, we once held each other's weight on our own shoulders. I know that his range of friendship is as far as his apartment door swings open.

So it doesn't surprise me that while Blofis is teaching his lesson, I catch a glimpse of him in the furthest corner of the room, at the farthest desk set aside. Even the lights themselves seemed to bend, making it feel darker. No one sits around him, and his eyes are bent towards a notebook on his desk. I know that he's not taking notes. Odds were he was drawing again, maybe sketching the classroom.

"Ms. Chase?"

I turn in embarrassment, realizing I'd been caught. Mr. Blofis was looking at me with polite concern, shadowed by annoyance that someone wasn't listening to his lecture. My cheeks tinged pink. "Sorry, Mr. Blofis."

He shook his head, as if I'd somehow disappointed him. Then, as if I'd been forgiven and the other students actually cared about proper grammar, he returned to his lecture. I didn't try to glance back again, fearing that he'd know. Because he always knew, and I doubt that will ever change.

...

Fourth period was nothing but a bunch of passing shadows, shifting around me in a mixture of black and grey. Maybe if the teacher could take her own words to heart about captivating an audience, because she certainly did _not_ have my attention.

Piper, strangely enough, wasn't there. I found it odd, though I shouldn't have. Jason had a free period, which meant that the temptation of being with her boyfriend _alone_ for an hour and forty five minutes would weigh on her.

I really did try, but every note I wrote down felt obsolete and unneeded. Should the teacher ever be sick, I could probably have stepped up and actually taught a decent lesson. Instead, I sat quietly, looking at the posters right above the teacher's head. Fake sounding slogans and funny pictures all neatly in a line stared back at me. After the fifth or sixth time through them all I tried refocusing.

But all I could see was that blue hoodie. Hear the sound of tears hitting pavement multiplied a thousand times until it was nearly deafening. The cruel noise of laughter and profanities thrown his way...

I can see myself walking away again, though it happened years ago.

I can't forget, just as I know he won't forgive. Not after what I did. Not after how I'd acted.

Even as the bell rang, it felt as if I was underwater, only just hearing the noise. My hands went into autopilot, picking my things off the desk and tossing them into my backpack. The sound of the zipper closing it doesn't register, nor the whispered words between students. The thumping noise in my ears with each step I take is all I have, echoing in my own skull.

That is until I see Piper ahead of me. My body, as before, goes into autopilot. My lips curl into a semi-genuine smile, because I _am_ glad to see her, but I wish longingly for it to be him again. My hand lifts into a small wave, and I only hope she's too preoccupied within her own thoughts to recognize how jumbled mine are.

"Hey Annie. How was Debate?" She asks, although I know that in all reality she's only interested in borrowing notes. I roll my eyes playfully anyway.

"Horrible, as usual. I don't think she even knows how to plan a lecture." I said, pulling off my backpack and opening my locker. I carefully and methodically pick out the notes she needs, as well as organizing what I'll need to take home and what can stay.

"Do you think I could borrow-"

I shove the notes in her face before she can finish her sentence, and she accepts them with a small groan. "Annabeth, you know I can't read your cursive. I don't think _anyone_ can."

"I can." I said, raising my eyebrow towards her.

She waves vaguely in my direction. "Oh, hush. You're special, Annie. We already knew that." She says with a smile, scanning over the notes. After a moment she nods. "So did you already memorize this? Cause I'm pretty sure I'll need to borrow this for the weekend." She said.

I roll my eyes, about to respond, but then I see that dull cloud of blue floating down the hallway, towards one of the side exits to the school. My vision tunnels again, and I can't force a noise out of my mouth.

His hood is down. Actually, it's been torn. He's walking purposefully, shoulders hunched and eyes shifting. His eyes- how long has it been? Two years since I've seen them? Maybe a bit less. It's strange not seeing tears in them like my recurring nightmares. Like that day. His chin is more defined, a stubble easily seen. His lips are set in a firm line, and even from here I can see he's been chewing them. His hair is darker than I thought, shiny and silky in the light.

What really draws my eye is the bruise on his left cheek.

He's trying to hide it, but he's so used to using the hood for hiding his face he doesn't know how to. Instead he seems to be drawing my attention faster than ever before. The alarm bells in my head are ringing, causing me to take a step towards him. And another, and another.

Maybe it's a set of bells in his own head that causes him to quicken his step, because I was quiet. Maybe it's the sixth sense some seem to develop that causes them to know when the time to run is. Either way, his once only slightly panicked walk becomes a mixture of weaving between students and fast walking. Too late, I realize I'd been spotted.

He turns a corner sharply, only a few steps ahead of me. I'm certain that I can catch up and... And what? The doubt is back in my mind. This isn't what I should be doing. I'm a popular, highly valued member of student government, even Junior class president. I'm a star athlete, track no less. Why should I care?

But I do. Those thoughts aren't really me, just a shadow of the doubt I had _before_ , not _now._ I can talk to him. It's long overdue.

Yet as I turn the corner, so does the entire Freshman volleyball team. I try to push through, but end up losing valuable seconds. I can just barely see him now, disappearing behind the doors and outside.

"Wait!" I yell in desperation, but it's drowned out by the noises that surround me. I don't think he can even hear me.

As I sprint out the doors, I can already feel the fist of guilt crushing my chest. As expected, the sun is shining brightly, the birds are singing in the trees, there's a nice breeze in the air, and Percy Jackson has disappeared.

"Seaweed Brain!" I yell in desperation. It echoes slightly, but otherwise all I look like is an idiot standing by the dumpsters. He doesn't answer, though I know he's out there somewhere.

 **Percy:**

I haven't heard anyone yell at me like she did today.

I always felt like the air was being sucked out of my lungs when she spoke to me. With anyone else who had the inconvenience of talking to me I could simply let them know they didn't have to and they'd leave. Annabeth however is a different story. If there's such thing as a soulmate, I think she might've been mine, putting up with all the crap I caused.

She's still standing there, looking around for me. My stomach churns at the thought, making me want to puke. I don't want her near me, or maybe I do. I've figured out that anything with her around changes and defies all logic.

I don't let the idea of leaving the tree even grace my thoughts. I sit as still as the branches, letting the wind blow all my loose-ish clothing around. She's in my peripherals, but not enough that I notice anything about her. No expression, no clothing colors, no stance. I worry that she might just stand there until she sees me again.

But then there's a flash of light that I recognize as the school doors glass reflecting into my eyes. There's a smudge of purple, and a faint voice that's definitely not as loud as _her_ voice a second ago.

"Annabeth? What's up?"

I can tell that she's torn between trying to find me and speaking with her real friend. I also know that she'll tell her that nothing is wrong, change the subject, and walk back inside.

"Nothing. How's Thalia? I haven't seen her in forever."

The voices begin to retreat back into the school and I sigh in relief. Merely a huff of breath, but I lose my balance completely and fall out of the tree. When I land on my back I only wince, no noise leaving my mouth. Then I begin the ride home on my skateboard, only glancing back once, knowing that she won't be there, but kind of hoping. Then again, I'm not.

Do you see what this girl does to me?

...

"Oi, Jackson! I've got a delivery for you!"

I glance up from where I'm sweeping, casting a confused look towards my manager. He's a bigger guy, with the most Cheeto-orange head and angriest looking scowl on his face, but I know he's harmless. Still, the five others working tonight are quick to pick up their pace as his voice drifts towards the front. People wait quietly at the front, here to pick up and order. I set my broom against the walk in freezer, then return to my manager.

He takes the receipt out and hands it to me with barely a glance, as usual. I'm okay with that, seeing as he doesn't expect me to talk, and I can find my own way through my shift. I check over the order, making sure everything is up to par. Cheese and olives, extra olives and a Coke, one liter. It's a web order (not that I ever answer the phone) and there is no name. I shrug to myself, checking the address. It's close.

I quickly help my coworkers in back make the pizza, delicately making it to what I'd consider perfection. Satisfied, I place it in the oven and get back to sweeping. No one offers any comment. Not on a Friday. We're backed up as it is, but there's a home game tonight at the high school, and that usually meant a party or two to celebrate. That's when I earn the most money, and my tips are highest.

I reach behind one of the counters and pull out a delivery bag, shoving the pizza inside it. One of the managers in training, Gwen, gives me a half smile. "Good luck, and get back soon."

She's usually this way towards those she feels above, as if we're her younger siblings. I simply grunt, then nod, pulling a Coke from the cooler. Then, careful to avoid any stupid questions from confused customers, I leave out the back door.

The sun is already down, and the only light I'm guided by is from the flickering fluorescent street lamp. I'm not bothered by it, instead shouldering the bag and checking the receipt one last time. I straighten my hat again, trying to represent my place of employment as best I could. Then I glanced around to see if my bike was still okay.

He's my pride and joy, that bike. I'm lucky the town is small enough that I can deliver on him. Nothing really fancy about him. Black frame, black spokes on the wheels and a silver spade etched on the side. His name, BLACKJACK, rests beside the spade. I had the guy at the bike shop install a case holder, and I secure the pizza with a bungee cord. Or two.

It's a short ride, but I make the most of it. I weave between buildings and through alleys, finding new paths and roads that I hadn't had the chance to visit before. It's a full moon tonight, and it peaks out from above the pines that usually cover any space that a house isn't occupied by. Patches of moonlight illuminating the roads and sidewalks.

Sadly, they do not illuminate the addresses.

I takes me a half hour to find the house, which even though is as long as I have, it's still frustrating. I let out a huff of breath that's immediately covered in mist. As I get off my bike, I pull my jacket more snugly around me. It's a leather one, already fitted tightly (at least I was lucky enough that it did) and my gloves tuck in well. I'm sad that my hood was ripped, but it was a decade old anyways.

The cold numbs the black eye no one bothered to ask about. I'm not upset about that, either.

Even as I walk up to the house I feel a sense of uneasiness. It hit me like a brand, hot and uncomfortable against my skin. I don't even know why. It's just like all the other ones, painted a crisp white. Nothing I haven't delivered to before.

Still, as I get closer I decide my hood should go up a little bit, and maybe I should keep my head down further. My body obeys that sixth sense completely, and even as I knock on the door I realize my mistake.

The first thing I notice when the door opens: warmth. It hits me like a wave, warming my skin and thawing my bones out.

It's the second thing I notice that warms my soul, but stabs my heart all at the same time.

She's in the doorway, her head down and thumbing through a handful of dollars. She's shoving curls out of her hair, trying to look at the money. "Hi." She says automatically, even mechanically. It's one word, but dropped so casually it makes my arms feel weak. She pulls out a twenty (five buck tip) and looks up finally.

And we're both frozen, standing in complete shock on her doorstep.

I was caught up in her eyes. Those pools of grey and silver, shining under the moonlight. I found myself doing that a lot back before we fought, and she'd tell me it was weird. I'd point out she'd be staring back just as curiously.

Today was no different. It's like we'd never stopped.

But we had.

 _Laughing. Silent tears falling down my face. Running home from school early..._

I shake my head quickly, taking a deep breath and trying not to fall back into the trap. Instead, while she was entirely caught off guard, I took the money from her outstretched hand, her grip loose, ignoring the jolt of electricity when our palms grazed. Then, when I offered her the pizza she took it, as if in a trance.

Then I ran.

I shoved my money in my back pocket, shooting towards my bike like a bullet from a gun. I sprinted, not even trying to hear if she was following, or yelling after me. I jumped on my bike and pushed off the sidewalk, just trying to get away.

I'm my panic, I didn't realize I hadn't given her the Coke.

...

The phone rings all the time at work. We get dozens of calls, more on weekends. Today was no exception. Closer to two hundred orders, and thousands of regulars delivered. I take the stray delivery here and there, like the Annabeth incident tonight, but mostly I'm making the orders and shoving them in the oven. I don't even answer the phone, which my boss is fine with. He has others for that.

But it's nearly closing, ten minutes till, when the phone rings. I'm cleaning off the make table, trying to get the sauce stain off the corner when I get that sixth sense that only connects to _her._ Normally it tells me that I'm in danger of being seen in the halls. Sometimes I get that urge to stay out of the lunch room that day. I like to think of it as an alarm, keeping me and Annabeth from falling back in line.

And for some reason when the phone rings tonight, I pause to hear the conversation my manager is having.

He starts out with the basic _'thank you for calling.'_ and _'what would you like?'_ Then he starts to frown, and he casts me a glance. "Yes, he's still here." The hairs on my neck stand on end. I don't like where this is going. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, ma'am. I can retract the payment, if you'd like." He said. After a few words from the other end, my manager grunts. "Of course. He'd be happy to." He hangs up and I can hear that alarm blaring in my ears.

"Percy, you messed up a delivery. I need you to take a Coke to that house off main, okay? And make it a two liter. She was nice enough to not complain about it." He said. He finishes the register, moving the money around as I finish the clean table. Then he exits with me, locking the door. "Get that there as fast as possible, then get some sleep. Big day tomorrow."

He leaves me standing there, a two liter in my hand and the numbness in my legs that I don't think I'll even make it to my bike, much less her house.

But I swallow the lump in my throat, taking a step. It was shaky and I almost fall, but it was a start. I take another, and another, until I'm at my bike and I'm pedaling. I'm not paying any attention to the streets, or the trees, or even the moon. I'm bracing myself to see her again.

She's sitting on her doorstep when I get there, and I'm not sure why my heartbeat quickens at the sight. She's got her knees tucked to side, and her head is hanging like she's asleep. I almost roll my eyes in fondness, but stop myself. Nothing about her should be fond, I tell myself.

My mind seems especially angry at me, because suddenly I'm seeing every moment from the past that involved her and my eyes rolling. I winced, because it physically hurt my head.

I try to stay quiet, but... It's Annabeth. I'm certain that if I have those alarms telling me she's close, she has alarms that say when _I'm_ close. I think of it as annoying, but really I'm not sure if the racing of my heart is any indication. Sure enough, three light footfalls towards her door, and her head pops up.

I feel my own steps falter because, _dang_ she's still the most beautiful girl in the world. I'm glad she doesn't expect me to speak anymore because I'm certain my tongue is in knots and my voice would crack repeatedly. The worst part is the way she's looking at me right now. Giant, shining grey eyes like she might cry. Mouth half open in surprise and hope. I can see her breath come out in little puffs, like she's about to say something.

I look away from her face as fast as possible, trying to focus on something, _anything_ that would get my mind off her.

But nothing gets me into focus more than Annabeth.

So as I stand right in front of her, I risk a glance. She's standing now, her jeans and jacket covering her from the cold. I can still see the puffs of breath coming from her mouth, and judging by the way I can see my own breath, I'm guessing my heart is stopping.

She's just so... _Her._

And I'm not supposed to be able to stand her. She's not supposed to be standing me, either, but I could never explain her thoughts for her. Basic habits, hobbies, and quirks? She knows mine as well as I know hers. But the deep questions that always seem to matter when I'm most confused and useless? I couldn't guess her intentions in a million years. Probably why I didn't see her low blow coming when I did.

I stood stock still, trying to not give myself away. I'm looking anywhere but where she stands, which is difficult because I realize she's standing right in front of me, stepping tentatively closer.

And then, with the utmost care, her hand comes up and grazes the bruise under my eye. I don't know whether to shy away from her touch (like I should) or if I should lean into it (what I want to do). Instead I just stand there, not looking at her and instead, pointing my eyes at the ground.

It's a light touch, barely felt. Her hands are soft, and warm, and-

I back up a little bit, just out of her reach. She doesn't step forward, which is something I appreciate. I set aside that thought of appreciation and set the Coke on the sidewalk in front of her. I don't look at her as I stand up straighter, then start to turn and leave.

But there's that hand that seems to numb pain, grabbing my arm lightly. "Percy-"

I can feel that other side of me creeping up, trying to rise up and hurt me. Hurt _her_. It's a fire that tells me to do something I know I'd instantly regret. I push it down, as if I was quenching a fire with water. The steam is still there, which might account for how when I grabbed her wrist it wasn't as gentle as I thought I was being.

I threw her hand off of me and I get just the slightest bit annoyed. In my mini fit of anger I turn a bit to look her in the eye. Big mistake. Hurt and confusion reflect in her eyes, and she's holding her wrist like it'd been burned. It's like something snapped in me, because I am _so sick_ of feeling this confused about someone. Wanting to protect them and keep them as close as possible, but also wishing that they were far away, and I could stay angry in silence.

 _Look at what you've done now,_ he says in my head, _you blew it, brainiac. She hates you again._

Those thoughts are too much for me, and I sprint to my bike. I can hear her racing after me, but even as kids I was the faster out of the both of us. "Percy!" She yelled after me, trying to catch up. I pick my bike up, trying to get out of a potentially hazardous situation. "Please!"

Her voice is cracking, and I think she really is crying now. My chest is hurting, and there's a pain behind my own eyes. But I'm already on my bike, and my legs are already carrying me farther away. I can feel my eyes stinging, but I refuse to cry. Not yet anyway.

I pull up to the apartment building, taking a good look at all the glowing, warmly lit windows. I pull myself towards the bike rack, locking it to the rail. Then I sprint up the stairs.

I open the door, expecting my mother, or a plate of something laid out. Maybe that smell of cookies in the oven. Lights should be on, and I should see pictures of myself or my mother out.

But it's dark. This isn't my apartment. No pictures, no cookies. There isn't even any carpet. A coffee table sits in the corner, right beside my sleeping pad. There _is_ a picture, but it's faded and half melted. You can just barely see the smiling face of my mother in it.

And as I close the door to my abandoned, dejected room, I run to the sleeping bag and lie down. Only then do I let the silent tears run down my face.

 **Annabeth:**

 _Piper:_

 _R U ready yet? :p_

I don't even have the energy to roll my eyes, but I text her back, telling her that I'd be outside in thirty minutes. She reads it after a minute but doesn't reply. Odds are she's with Jason still.

I (try to) rub the sleep out of my eyes, but it doesn't work. I hadn't slept a wink last night, instead tossing and turning until exhaustion had won out sometime around two. I kept seeing those eyes just out of my reach, or feeling the way his hand had pushed my arm away. It hurt, and the single touch had left my heart racing.

But that was yesterday, and today is a whole new ball game.

I'd woken up early and skipped breakfast, then skipped my run, then sat on the couch and binge watched Netflix. If that doesn't say depressed, I don't know what does. My dad bothered to call for once, saying he was going to fly straight to Chicago instead of stopping at home. He didn't sound too apologetic.

I'm used to the strained relationship with my dad, but today it dug a chunk out of any energy I might've had left. My walls, already weakened by Percy, felt like a dam bursting. Just a few small tears and sniffling, but it still made me despise myself.

So, like any other high school student worth her salt, I was going to show up to the party this weekend and have a good time.

The Stolls, although immature and known, not popular, had been bragging about their party this weekend. Their tactics had worked, as expected. People were already calling it the 'party of the century' and it hadn't even _happened_ yet. It kind of annoyed me, when I thought about it. But I needed an escape, and this was it.

So I sucked it up and put a smile on, even though no one was around to see it yet. Maybe it was for myself instead, but it was probably strained. I picked out everything I'd need and got myself ready to at least attempt to have fun tonight. A pair of dark jeans, my converse, and a simple white t-shirt.

When Piper's dark purple jeep pulled up to my house, I put my phone away. I'd been trying to stop _thinking about him,_ but he had been stuck at the back of my mind. Social media had failed me (although judging by the pictures from Facebook, the party was going to be awesome). I couldn't even muster an ounce of interest in what I was going to be doing tonight. I might as well have watched a few movies and eaten ice cream.

"You ready?" Piper asks, looking away from her boyfriend for a millisecond to acknowledge me. I put on an apparently convincing grin, because she smiled back, then turned her attention to her boyfriend. Jason was driving tonight, but seeing as I'm the pledged alcohol-free girl, I'd probably be driving us home.

I winced for some odd reasons at my own thoughts, and for a second I couldn't place why. Then I remember that, yes, _he_ was the reason I'd sworn off alcohol. The same way I was the reason _he'd_ sworn off alcohol. I wanted to tear chunks out of my hair, but I kept it together. I was going to this party to get away from thoughts of him, not closer.

The ride was all small-talk, no big words or any topics. Piper raved to Jason about something her half sister (and hero) Selina had said, and he'd politely listen. I'd long ago figured out he enjoyed hearing her voice, no matter the subject, but he nodded and gave feedback when he thought best. I found myself just noticing the faintest of details that reminded me of him.

"So Annabeth, you think it's going to be good?"

Piper's question wasn't well timed. My mind was still stuck on Percy and her words flew right over my head. "Hmm?"

She repeated her question, tilting her head to the side quizzically. I plastered on a smile, albeit sarcastic, and responded in a sickly-sweet tone. "Definitely. Drinking, drugs, and the Stolls? I bet this'll even make the school newspaper tomorrow."

Piper chuckled, rolling her eyes. Jason have her a quick peck on the cheek at the red light, and Piper became very serious. "You know, you don't usually _like_ parties. Or the Stolls, I hope."

"Heck no."

"So why tonight?" She asked, her head straightening. I ran my hands over the upholstery. How to explain, how to explain...

"Just been a rough week, I guess? I didn't really have any plans tonight, and Thalia kept telling me I should, so..." I let the answer hang in the air, allowing Piper to make her own assumptions. I shot my gaze out the window, suddenly interested in the road passing by us.

We actually heard the party before seeing it. The music might as well have been noise because no bass could really be that loud. They had to park three streets away, there were so many cars. The streets were crowded with people trying to get to the house, and a few people were even try to walk back. Most of them looked less than sober, but I was glad to see at least one sensible person getting in the driver seat.

Jason whistled when we turned the corner. "They really went all out." He said. I couldn't help but agree. The lights in every room appeared to be colored differently. The music was, as said before, extremely loud. My ears were already ringing, and my head hurt. The people were basically spilling out of the windows of the three story house.

Just when I was beginning to regret coming, Piper yanked on my wrist, laughing. "Hurry up!" She said, trying to drag me along. We entered.

Bodies colliding. Drinks spilling. Couches in the corner occupied by more than could fit. Drunken laughter and dancing. It smelled like stale beer and cigarette smoke, thick enough to feel like I was _breathing_ it in. I felt like I was suffocating, being in closed this way.

As I was being dragged along we passed a few recognized faces, some of which I had no idea were into partying. We moved towards the kitchen and I noticed the stacks of pizza boxes and pyramid of drinking cups. I eyed them uncomfortably, but didn't shy away from them.

Suddenly there were two hands on my shoulders. I hadn't even noticed Piper and Jason head further into the house, leaving me. Apparently the Stolls had. They stood on each side of me, troublemaker grins and mischievous glints in their brown eyes. "If it isn't our esteemed student body president!" Travis said in mock cheerfulness. "At our

humble party? I must say, we are honored."

Him and his brother took a mock bow as I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms, unimpressed. Travis elbowed Connor's ribs. "Oh! Right, what drink do you want?" He said, a little more serious (but not by much). He brought out a few choice alcohols, but I wrinkled my nose.

"Water, please." I asked. Connor didn't bat an eye reaching behind the counter and pulling out a bottle. Travis groaned.

"Let loose a little, Annie! I've got this vodka-"

"No thanks." I said, opening the bottle. I took a gulp, feeling the liquid sooth the lump that had been growing in my throat. Travis smirked a bit and his brother gave me a wink.

"Oh well. We tried. Have a nice night, Annie!" He said. Just as quickly as they'd appeared, the vanished.

I squinted in the direction they'd gone, but simply shrugged it off. Instead I took a few tentative sips of water and made my way onto the dance floor.

I'm not sure when I realized my eyesight was getting blurry, or why my limbs were feeling heavy. There were all these little... Lightning bugs, I think... Falling... I couldn't stand...

"Will you please excuse me?" I asked, even though my speech was slurred. I wasn't even sure if anyone was even there. Had I been talking to someone?

I stumbled out the door, nearly colliding with what I thought was an open door. I felt the chill entering the air... A pool... The backyard... Oh! That lawn chair looks comfy... Maybe ten minutes...

I sat down and everything went blank.

 **Percy:**

Deliveries were crazy tonight.

We knew why of course, with the Stolls advertising their party. I knew I wasn't attending or anything, but I figured _someone_ was going to buy pizza. Saturday night was just a blur of hands over dough, putting together orders. We had two delivery drivers out, but it was nearly closing. We had to stop people from coming in this late.

"Percy! I've got another for the party off Stone Creek! Take it quickly and get back to help close." My manager said. I nodded, letting someone else take over order making for once. I grabbed the delivery (three meat lovers, two veggie, four pepperoni and a cheese) and made my way through the crowd in the lobby. A few hungry customers eyed me walking through, but none of them bothered me.

It took some time strapping the pizzas to my bike, but when I finally did everything went smoothly. I'd already accompanied one of the other drivers delivering to the Stoll party (thirty pizzas, fifteen pepperoni, five combos, five meat lovers and five cheese) and knew the address by memory. It took me around ten minutes, they were so close.

I was instantly aware of all the people around me. It's not like they're mean or anything. I'm just easily intimidated by people. Meeting Annabeth in middle was without a doubt a chance occurrence, otherwise I probably wouldn't have had a single friend. Now I was in high school, at one of their parties, and I had to maneuver between a swarm of drunken, high, and generally stupid high school age kids. Possibly girls. I shuttered at the thought.

"Hey! Hey buddy!" Someone yelled. I tried to place the voice, and my memory didn't fail. Travis Stoll. This was his dad's house, and seeing as he was always away on business they'd picked the date during his longest trip. At least, that's what I'd heard. I nodded in his direction, then checked his receipt. I sighed in relief. He'd paid with a credit card, and the chances of me having to speak dropped near zero.

Travis ran up to me, helping me take some of the pizzas. He gestured with his neck, that impish smile still stuck to his face. "Follow me to the kitchen? Grab a slice and chill for a sec." He said. I had no intention of staying, but my stomach spoke for me. I nodded, following after him.

The house was huge, obviously meant for a party this size. Music? Deafening. The smell of alcohol and poor decision making was thick in the air. It reminded me of _him_ , but I shrugged those poisoned thoughts away. Instead, I placed the pies on the clearest counter I could find, then Travis handed me what he owed, plus a five. "Enjoy the party."

I, after a more thorough examination, saw that no one was going to swarm the food just yet, so I pulled off the top (a pepperoni) and began to munch warily on a slice. My eyes never stopped searching the room.

There was a sudden loud burst of laughter that caused me to shift slightly behind the pizza tower while pulling my hat lower. It was subtle, really, but I knew deep down that I'd just used my 'super power'. Annabeth had always joked I must be a magician. _Now you see me, now you don't_ was supposedly my life's motto.

I kept my eyes towards that laugh, because I was sure it was familiar. My ears were tuning everything out again, zeroing in on the familiar sound. I didn't hear it for a while, and I thought I was just being paranoid.

Then I saw him. He was surrounded by those mindless idiots, all of them trying too hard to blend in. They were all hunched shoulders and shifty eyes, trying to look as normal as possible. Some of them were even trying to _look_ like each other, matching things from clothes to hairstyles. It was a definite fan club, and the person they were fanning over was a _somebody._

He was chuckling, swirling the liquid in his cup like it was the fanciest drink in the world. His smile was relaxed, almost disturbingly so. He _knew_ these guys were wrapped around his wrist like a watch, all there for a _purpose,_ not because he wanted them there. Still, he kept them around. That meant they were valued... For now. I knew better than most: Luke Castellan is no good.

I can judge a person well with just a few seconds. I can step back and listen, acting like I'm not even there. 'Wallflower' doesn't cover it. Luke Castellan... First time I'd ever misjudged someone. The last, I'd promised myself. He fooled me once. Now, he's a bit easier to read.

He's up to something.

But I don't know what.

I can see the way his second in command, Ethan, shifts beside him restlessly, glancing towards the back door like its nuclear. I can see how his one eye shifts from place to place, and how he mutters something under his breath. I don't even realize I'm reading his lips until after it's been processed.

 _"She's out there, Luke. Let's grab her now."_

Luke casts his second a glance before continuing with his other 'friends'. One of them says something to him that makes everyone laugh and Luke responds to Ethan. I don't catch it all, but I get enough

 _"She can wait a little longer. Drugged-"_

Someone knocks into me and I nearly topple over into the pizzas. I quickly move away from my spot, heading towards the back door.

Whatever Luke wants, I'm gonna spoil it for him.

It's revenge, simple as that. He thinks I'm shrinking away from him after what he did? I'm antisocial and awkward, but I can stick up for myself. So if there's something- _someone_ he wants, he has another thing coming. But who does Luke want?

The back is definitely crowded. It's surrounded by huge pine trees that blot out the fence. People are gathering around the series of small, deceptive ponds that flow into one another. There's a snack table and a few dozen lanterns lighting up the backyard. I assume this is for the less active people at the party. Still drinking and dancing, but less compacted.

I switch between faces, looking for the only characteristics to the person Luke was looking for: girl and drugged. I wonder what they've taken, and why Luke would want them. Admittedly, I am not a good judge of if a girl is 'hot' or not. I see dozens of them, usually in packs. I notice a group of them wandering close to guys and surrounding them, giggling, and I can only shudder at the thought of what's happening to _that_ poor guy.

After a better examination, I'm certain there's only drunk girls, no drugged girls, and I wonder if Luke has already picked the girl up. I shake my head. _What am I even doing?_ I have to help close tonight. What would I have even done?

I turn away and start to head towards the gate, opting to avoid the crowd.

But then I hear a whimper.

It's definitely a girl. Who, I don't know, but that's no surprise. I turn towards the trees, where no one has so much as moved in the direction of. I assume it's because it's darker, but...

Suddenly as I turn to look behind the tree I know. I know exactly who was there, why Luke would be interested, and what I should do.

Annabeth was on a lawn chair, pointed towards the fence. I wasn't sure _why,_ but judging by her far away look she wasn't entirely there. I didn't even think of her coming to parties like these. Maybe she'd stopped with the 'anti-alcohol' stuff after our friendship went south. I felt a pang of betrayal in my chest, but shoved it off. I didn't smell alcohol on her breath.

I quietly walked forward and put my fingers to her pulse. My eyes widened when when I realized how erratically it was beating, as if trying to leave her chest. I lifted her eyelid slightly, and saw her pupils barely a pinprick on her irises.

Suddenly she jolted in the chair, and her pupils were blown wide. Her hands grabbed my forearms and her breath began to come out in ragged gasps. I couldn't even pick out any words she was whispering under her breath. Her voice was erratic, babbling as if in another language. She was going into hysterics, and I wasn't exactly sure how her heart hadn't stopped yet. "Trash." She muttered urgently.

I was torn. Luke... Annabeth was who Ethan was talking about, I was sure. Who had drugged her, I had no idea. What Luke might've been planning for Annabeth made me feel sick.

Carefully, I touched Annabeth's hands that were gripping his forearms. She jolted again, as if touched by a live wire, then stopped mid sentence. I cringed at the sudden tightening on my arms because, no, she wasn't letting go anytime soon. Instead, I reached out and snapped my fingers in front of her face. Judging by how still she still was, I wasn't getting to her.

I let out a huff of breath because this is _not_ what I wanted to do on a Saturday night. _Especially_ when I was closing later tonight. I'd never missed a day, no exceptions.

But this is Annabeth. When wasn't she an exception?

I sighed, trying again get my arms out of her grip. I don't speak to her (I haven't spoken in a long time) but I hum a bit, trying to sooth her hysteria.

Finally, after a few moments of working past her language barrier, I manage to get her away. She lets out a few high pitched squeaks, almost bad enough to cause the dog next door to start barking. The music and people don't seem to affect her all that much as I gently take her hand in mine and lead her through the crowds.

She's in a trance, eyes half lidded and pupils constantly changing size. Her hand is limp and cold in mine, and I wonder how long she'd been outside in the cold September air. As I lead her out I have to switch from her hand in mine to putting her in front of me and guiding her shoulders. Her head lolls to the side, and I right it quickly.

I hope Luke knows it was me. That I saved Annabeth from whatever humiliation he'd had planned. The thought made me tighten my lips into a semi-smile.

It took longer than I expected, especially when she tried to feel my face (yep, she's drugged) but eventually we were outside. I then realized I was on a bike. No way could I get her on that, and I'm not sure I could trust her to keep any common sense intact.

I sighed, squared my shoulders, and started walking. As we did, she took on a robotic movement: left, right, left, right. I still didn't trust her to be still, so instead I kept one arm locked onto her wrist while I pulled out my phone. I brought up my manager's number.

 _Can't close tonight. Emergency at the party._

I realized how stupid it sounded after the text was sent, but got a reply quickly.

 _Can you make it back later tonight?_

I cast a glance at Annabeth, currently trying to hug a stop sign.

 _No._

We walked maybe halfway to her house before I got my reply.

 _Steven is covering for you. You owe him Tuesday shift next week._

 _Deal._

I sighed in relief, still trying to guide Annabeth along. We'd only just reached the sign to her little subdivision when she swung around and began to tip to the left. I had to grab her around the waist before she could fall, and then she started to whimper like before. I grabbed her face in one hand, trying to get her to look me in the eye.

When I saw her face my breath caught in my throat. Her face was an ugly shade of green, barely seen in the dim light of the street lamps. Her lips were twisted into a grimace, and her eyes were still unfocused as she tried to remain upright. She gripped one of my shoulders tightly, pressing her other hand into my gut.

Suddenly she jerked sideways, head basically trying to rip itself from her neck. I knew what was happening, so I quickly tried to find somewhere she could puke that wouldn't look too noticeable. But there were no trash cans. Just the road, a telephone pole with some bushes around it-

I lead her over to the bushes as quickly as I could. Just in time, she started to retch loudly, letting out what I didn't really want to know. I held her hair back for her as she let out the contents of her stomach, and something reminded me that this was just her way of getting the drugs out faster. Maybe she would be okay for the rest of the night and I could get back to work to help close.

But when she was finally done, she was gasping for breath, and her eyes were just as unfocused as before. She was shivering terribly, and her t-shirt suddenly didn't seem to be helping her stay warm at all. She wrapped her arms around herself, ducking her head down. She was leaning her head against the telephone pole, and I could hear her teeth chattering. "Trash." She said again, confusing me more.

My eyebrows scrunched together in anxiety. This cold weather couldn't be good for her, and I wanted to curse because I wasn't sure we could even get inside soon enough. The wind was picking up, and the moon was being shadowed by clouds. I'd guess it was about to rain, and that wasn't something I wanted to ride my bike home in.

I took those thoughts out of my mind, instead replacing them with basic needs. Annabeth was cold. I could fix that. I took off my windbreaker, putting it over her shoulders carefully. Her hands basically tore it onto her body. I put my hands on her shoulders, then started to help her put one foot in front of the other. It took some time, but we were moving faster. I could see her street just at the bend.

Suddenly she stopped, and I groaned because I just wanted this to _end_. We could see her street right up ahead. Why couldn't she just _move?_

She collapsed.

My brain didn't quite process this until she was tugging on my ankle weakly, and I started to panic. I quickly grabbed her hands in mine, and I felt like my skin was freezing. I looked at her face and saw that her lips were turning a shade of blue. I tried to comprehend what could've happened because it wasn't that cold out. Could the drugs be doing this to her? Was that a symptom?

I hoisted her into my arms, and realized my windbreaker probably did nothing to help her. Her hands were wrapped around my neck and she was pulling herself against me, trying to get warmer. Her face buried itself into the crook of my neck and my face instantly heated up. Guessing by how she kept mushing her face in there, it must've been warmer than before.

I broke into a full sprint, trying to equally watch were I was going and keep her close to me. I could still feel her shivering, and I swallowed a lump in my throat. What if the drugs kept her cold? What if it wasn't the drugs at all and she was just extremely cold? Could I even warm her up? What if she just froze?

My feet involuntarily picked up the pace, and suddenly I could see her house ahead of me. I nearly jumped in relief, but her shaking form was keeping my emotions in check. I had to get her inside. Crank the heat, make her some soup, and pile the blankets onto her until only her face was visible. Maybe then her body would right itself and she'd be able to wake up and forget everything.

We reached her doorstep before I realized that I didn't have any keys. I felt my face heat up in rage. If this were the same house she'd lived in two years ago, I would've snuck in the 2nd story window from their tree right outside her bedroom window or open the garage door with the same four digit code we always used (1164). Now? I had no way in beside the keys in her pocket. (Yes, I checked the garage door).

Annabeth was breathing evenly for once, and judging by the way that her arms hadn't shifted for the past minute of trying to find a way inside, I'd guess she's fallen asleep. I had no idea how long that might last, but I didn't want to end. Rest was probably the best for her. How to get the keys out of her pocket without waking her?

I carefully sat on her stoop, my legs wobbling dangerously as I bent them lower to the ground. I hit the cement hard, and the added weight was enough to make me yelp in surprise. Especially since her keys were now stabbing into my thigh. Very carefully, I dug my hand into her pocket, trying to pick out what was a key and what wasn't. She muttered something, and I froze. She didn't move after a few seconds, so I assumed she must still be asleep.

After finally digging the keys from her pocket (and stealing some gum) I stood up, her still wrapped tightly in my embrace. I managed to get the key in and then shoved the door open.

In a word: cozy. Hardwood floors, soft lit rooms. You could see everything from anywhere. Kitchen to living room. Dining room to what I assumed was a study. There was a staircase tucked away next to the kitchen, and finally a fireplace in the living room. The couches made me wanna groan, they looked so much better than a sleeping pad in an unfinished apartment building.

I shut the door behind me, immediately noticing how warm it was. Annabeth noticed as well, sighing lightly into my chest. I smiled lightly for a second before realizing that I shouldn't be, so I settled on a blank expression.

I walked to the nearest couch, leaning down and laying her there to rest up for a minute while I gathered my thoughts. It took a second to unhook her death grip on my neck, but I eventually got her off. She immediately curled up into a ball, but otherwise she didn't even give a single reaction to being home. Her expression was as blank as mine and her eyes looked idly into the corner of the room.

My eyebrows scrunched up in worry. I didn't expect things to magically get better when we walked inside, but... What should I do?

 _Spend the night. Keep her safe_. My heart said.

 _Walk out. No connection, no contact. Pretend she doesn't exist._ My brain said.

Was this a matter of head or heart? I was getting a headache (maybe a form of punishment) just thinking about it. I looked at my dirty, flour and sauce stained shirt and jeans. The mud I'd tracked in. _Could_ I even spend the night? The couches looked too fancy for the pizza guy.

After a bit of comparing, I heard a soft whimper, and noticed that Annabeth was sitting up. I nearly jumped because of how scary it felt (I swore she was lying down) and noticed her weird behavior.

She started swatting the air, yelping in surprise like she was being attacked. Then her yelling got louder and louder, her movements became more erratic, and her chest rose and fell unevenly. There was a sudden clap of thunder and I started hearing the rain begin to fall.

When her yells started becoming screams, I jumped over and took her wrists. She started to struggle, shouting for me to go away, that she never wanted to see me again.

 _"I hate you!"_

 _"Leave me alone!"_

 _"Just- just GO! That's all you're good at, mom!"_

 **Percy:**

The night didn't seem to end for Percy. Annabeth was constantly switching between moods. At one point Percy had to hold her down as she just cried and clawed at her face, nearly hurting herself.

Sometimes she was yelling at her mother. Sometimes her father. Every time, it was her accusing them of abandoning her. Sometimes it really _was_ about Percy, sob filled apologies and broken pleas to just _come back._

It was about one o'clock, just three hours after being with her that she cracked.

Percy had been hugging her close to himself on the couch, trying to keep her arms and legs pinned. She'd just gotten into a screaming match with her mother (he thinks) when suddenly she just wasn't moving anymore. Percy didn't realize it because of how he'd been trying to blot out the noises himself. He'd started to go numb, nearly falling asleep. When he noticed how silent she was, he became curious. Was... Was she alright?

His tight grip on her loosened bit by bit, him expecting her to jump up and run away. Instead, he was able to fully get her out of his embrace and look her in the eye. What he saw haunts him.

Hollow. Hollow eyes and a blank face stared back at him. Some of her hair was stuck to her face (probably from Percy) and her whole body seemed limp. Percy shivered, unnerved by this sudden change.

Percy tentatively brought his hand up and waved it in front of her face. He tried snapping, humming, clapping, and eventually shaking her a little bit. He was legitimately scared. Her pupils, for once, looked a bit normal, maybe only slightly bigger then they should've been. That didn't comfort him in the slightest.

 _What if she stays like this? What if she's back to normal? What if, what if, what if..._

"It's pointless, you know."

Her voice was so soft, yet Percy could only describe it as depressed. It was unwavering, cold and empty. Not for the first time he wanted to speak. To address her as his best and only friend. Instead, he gave her arm a light squeeze, just to let her know he was still there. He was surprised to see her focus on him so easily.

While he had her attention he unconsciously put the curls caught on her face behind her ear. His fingers brushed her cheek, still very much cold beside the warmth of the fireplace. She didn't lean into the touch, nor move away. As immovable as a statue, she kept her gaze far away, beyond where Percy could see.

"High school... College... What's the point? I don't want to end up like my father _or_ mother. They're both disappointments." She said, just staring at Percy. He gulped, not because she was still very much drugged.

Hadn't he been thinking the same way for years now? _What's the point?_

"And to start working, day in and day out... That's insanity. Why would anyone do that to themselves?" She asked.

Percy kept his mouth shut. He didn't have an answer. He never did.

Instead, Percy ran his hands up and down her arms, trying to convey his own message. He was there. He'd be there to help her. She'd be okay because he wasn't going to let her get hurt. It snapped in Percy's mind, although he wasn't going to tell her later. Yes, it was the truth. He'd help her, but he wasn't sure he wanted to even try being friends with her.

After a few minutes Percy switched tactics. He nuzzled his head under her chin, on her cheeks, etc. he didn't know why, he just thought it could help. She didn't seem moved, but some of her fingers twitched when he buried his nose into the crook of her neck. He took it as progress, gripping her smaller, more delicate hands in his own calloused ones. He set his forehead to hers carefully, just looking into her eyes and trying to find her old self.

The process repeated itself a dozen times. Him trying to display his affection, trying to get some form of reaction, and ultimately getting nowhere. Annabeth merely stated through him, looking towards the corner hollowly.

When Percy thought she might've just fallen asleep with her eyes open her arms tentatively wrapped themselves around Percy's back. Her hands cradled his head and she tugged at his hair a bit before having his head resting in the crook of her neck again. She took a sudden deep breath, shaky and uneven. When she spoke, her voice was watery.

"Bed." She muttered. "Sleep."

Percy was quick to hear the innocence in her voice. Nothing along the lines of _that_. She just wanted her own bed to rest in instead of the couch. He nodded, removing himself from her embrace and placing a hand on her neck and between the crook in her knees. He lifted her gently, feeling her offer no support for herself.

Percy went upstairs, checking behind each door until he found the room with a pile of books in the corner. He noticed the window sill all covered in pillows and just _knew_ she'd fallen asleep on that every summer night. The books were all hers, of course, and the only real indication that it was actually her room was the mirror and makeup in the corner.

Annabeth tugged lightly at the hair on his neck, as if trying to tell him something. Percy had to dip his head down to see and realized that his nose was basically sliding along her face. He froze for a second, completely in awe of the beautiful girl in his arms. He couldn't deny that she's beautiful. His eyes lingered on her face for longer than necessary. Full lips, bright (albeit unfocused) eyes and her little nose.

He started to realize his nose was up against her own, and he quickly snapped his head up. Without any other amount of affection, he methodically and carefully began to place her into bed and under the covers. The rain was still pounding mercilessly outside, and thunder began to shake Percy's teeth.

After she was in her bed, Percy realized: what now?

He looked out the window towards the rainy night. Thunder still rumbled in their little beachside community, and Percy wondered vaguely if it might be raining _too_ hard. Panic seized his chest. What if he couldn't get his bike? What if the roads flooded?

Percy was getting ready to argue if he even needed to spend the night when she answered for him.

She let out the most bone-chilling, bloodcurdling scream that he'd even heard.

Percy looked towards her sharply, trying to see what was going on. At the exact same time, the largest boom of thunder shook the house, and all the lights went out. Only the flash of lightning from outside the window gave him light to see by.

She was sweating, hair sticking to her forehead. She was breathing erratically again, and even her movements were jerky and sporadic. She muttered 'no' under her breath in a hushed tone, tearing off the blankets like they might be hurting her. Percy could hear how close she was to screaming again, and he did _not_ want to hear that.

Without thinking, he jumped forward and onto the blankets. He placed his legs on either side of her body, making sure she was kept in place. He trapped her wrists in his left hand and placed his right over her mouth just as she screamed. It wasn't as loud, but much more frantic.

 _"Get it off!"_ She whispered urgently. _"Please!"_

Annabeth continued to scream, sometimes trying to claw Percy's hand off. She gnawed at Percy's hand, but it was halfhearted and didn't hurt Percy nearly as much as it could've. She was so vulnerable, fighting whatever inner demon the drugs were forcing her to face. Writhing and rolling, trying to get away from what was keeping her in place.

Percy's heart broke at the sight.

He let her wrists go, and he took her into his arms gently. He hugged her close, trapping her arms between his chest and hers. She cried out weakly, too mentally exhausted and unfocused to put up a fight. Percy brought her legs up and into his lap while letting her shove her face into his shoulder and cry.

"Why?" She asked into his shoulder. "I am _trash."_ She said. Percy's mind went into overdrive.

His last words to her hung in the air. _"A friendship without loyalty... It's_ trash."

 _Is this my fault?_ He thought frantically. _Am I the reason she's doing this?_ He looked towards the fragile form of his ex-best friend, huddled onto his lap and crying worse than when her parents had divorced all those years ago. The true horror hit him like a ghost passing through his skin: cold and empty.

 _What have I done?_

 **Annabeth:**

Darkness.

Complete and total blindness enveloping her body and soul. Only glimpses, shadows of memory that drifted just out of reach. Music that sounded like she was underwater. A roaring ocean, being bombarded by artillery. A scream that echoed down from her soul and outward, in the dead of night.

As she woke up, she felt all this... This mirage glade behind her eyelids.

Then she jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom as fast as possible, promptly throwing up whatever was left in her stomach.

She couldn't think properly, her headache hitting full force. She'd never had a hangover (she didn't even _drink_ ) but now it was like someone pounding a stake through her temple as her stomach emptied. She gripped the porcelain sides desperately, trying to find any grip she could. She felt like she was going to die, right there on the bathroom floor.

As she continued (how much had she _eaten?_ ) she heard the creak of the door opening, the noise hurting her head worse. She groaned in pain, past the bile. Then a hand came into her view, rough and calloused, and pulled her hair away from her face. A second hand rubbed small circles on the back of her neck while she continued.

She tried to take stock of her situation, even though her head protested. Yes, this was her house. _Ouch._ She was in the same clothes as last night. _Agh._ Someone was here with her, holding her hair back. A boy. _Ugh..._

Yep. She could work with that for now.

She hadn't even realized she was done heaving until the hand holding her hair back began to help her stand. She took it slowly, trying in vain to stand on her own. She pushed the hands away, but when she nearly fell with the first step, she allowed them to help her get back to her room. When they were in the hallway, light shining in her face, she wanted to hiss. She settled with closing her eyes tight and hoping her room was darker.

The hands guided her until she could feel the soft material of her bed under her palms. She wanted to jump in and wrap herself in the blankets, but the very thought sent her stomach dropping. She gently laid herself down, then blindly found the edge of her covers and pulled them over her head.

Her head pounded and her stomach flopped every ten seconds and _every last inch of her body felt like ice._ She began to shiver, her whole body shaking. She was going to freeze, she was sure. Annabeth Chase was going to die in her own bed at sixteen, frozen.

But then there was the creak of the old rocking chair next to the bed, and she felt two burning hands rubbing her side through the covers. "Shh." He said, trying to sooth her. "Shh."

She couldn't breath for a moment, and she didn't know why. She lifted the blankets away from her head, if only to get some fresher air in her lungs. As she did, one of the hands rubbing her side came into view, holding a bucket. She took it warily, but was happy for the gesture. Cradling it to her aching chest, she tried to sit up and thank whoever was there.

But as she tried, her stomach did a somersault, turning underneath her. A shiver racked her body and she held down whatever was trying to escape her belly. Her hands tightened on the bucket, knuckles turning white. The hands were back on her shoulders, gently lowering her back onto the mattress.

She caught a glimpse of his face then. A flash of black and green, familiar and ghostly. She felt all the blood drain from her face. "Percy?" She whispered.

Said boy kept one hand on her shoulder while the other scratched the back of his head lightly. He kept his eyes on her face, but it didn't feel cold or impartial like the Friday night. His gaze was soft and caring, his eyebrows scrunched together in concern. He didn't speak, but his eyes spoke for him.

Annabeth tried to get up again, because there was no way on earth she was going get _any_ rest now that she knew who was there with her. He tried to keep her down, as did her stomach, but she simply slapped his hand away and waited for the nausea to pass.

When she'd sat up, she turned herself until she was looking her ex-best friend in the eye. He shifted uncomfortably, looking away from her, picking at his shirt stains and worn out jeans.

Then, quicker than her tired body probably liked, she pulled him into her arms.

She could feel how stiff he was beside her, trapped in her embrace. She winced internally. Of course he wouldn't want her touching him. She was being incredibly stupid, doing this. Sudden self-hatred blossomed inside her and she started to pull away.

But then she was in an even tighter embrace. _His_ embrace. He held her closer than she'd done with him, with one arm wrapped around her waist and the other tangled in her hair. He kept her there, cradling her as if trying to make her disappear into him. He put his head on her shoulder, his hair tickling her ear.

They stayed that way for a while and Annabeth kept herself latched to him as well. It just felt so _right_ , her being in his arms like this. They seemed to fit like puzzle pieces, but at the same time they just weren't supposed to. The school loner and the Student body prez? It sounded like a cliché, sappy _fanfiction._ Opposites like that _don't mix._

She held him closer, trying to get that nostalgic feeling back. Social stereotypes were what broke them before. She wouldn't let her throw him out again. Two years since freshman, and she was just starting to feel like she could breath again. Being around Percy again? That was a lungful of fresh air.

When she finally pulled away (because she still knew he would _never_ stop a hug) she still kept a hand on his shoulder, keeping him arms length. Anymore, and he might disappear like he did in school. She didn't break eye contact, and eventually he put his head down himself, rubbing the back of his neck like he always would when he was nervous or flustered.

Finally, she took a moment to examine his state. His clothes, obviously work uniform. They were dirty, covered in sauce stains and smelling like dough. His shoes were worn, and his work hat sat on her nightstand. She took his chin in her hand, frowning as she got a good look at his face.

That black eye was fading away, but still he had lavender bruises under his eyes. His movements were slower, but she supposed that made sense. He had probably been with her since...

 _What happened last night?_

She doesn't remember anything, and that makes her panic. _Think._ She commands herself. _You got there with Piper and Jason. You went into the kitchen and the Stolls-_

Her train of thought put on the break. _The Stolls_ were never innocent.

What had they put in her water?

She shook off that thought (but stored it away for future use) and focused back on Percy. She put her hand on his chin and made him look up at her. "What happened last night?" She asked.

She expected Percy to start talking. She _really_ wanted to hear his voice, considering it had been two years. But she was surprised to see him shrug and pull a piece of paper and a pen out. His writing was messy, but it always had been in middle school.

 _Found you in the backyard._

She frowned, choosing to ignore the most obvious question. Yeah. She hadn't been feeling so good so she had sat down. "How did you know I was at the party? What were you doing there?" She asked. He began to quickly scribble his answer, and his tongue stuck out slightly from between his lips. Annabeth did _not_ find that adorable. At all (shut up).

 _I was delivering pizza, overheard some guys talking about you._

Annabeth shivered when the severity of his statement sunk in. "W-what were they saying about me?"

 _I didn't stay to listen. Went outside and found you. Took you home._

She read over every word very carefully, then examined her surroundings. She was home, Percy looked sleep deprived, and she'd been on drugs. "What happened when we got home?" She asked.

Percy's expression flashed back to concern, but he kept his pen away from his paper. "Percy, what happened?" She asked urgently. He rubbed the back of his head again, then grabbed her hands. She was surprised, but pleasantly so. He began to idly play with her fingers, but otherwise offered no response.

She shook off her content feeling, because she _had to know._ "Percy." She said. His gaze travelled up to her face, and his eyes held an emotion she couldn't quite place. "Please."

His hands let go of hers, but he kept his eyes on hers, searching for something. Finally, he sighed, picking up the pad and paper.

As she read, she felt a hand clench over her heart. She could feel the meaning behind each word, and knew that this had been her. Scathing comments toward her mother. Insult toward her father. She saw the sadness behind Percy's gaze when she read about her pleading for him to come back. She wanted to say he was lying, too, but that would've been stupid. He _knew_ her. He wasn't lying.

When she was finally done, she put the paper back on her nightstand and placed her hands in her lap. She had been stripped in front of her ex-best friend, and he was looking at her in a way she just couldn't understand. Maybe disgust. Probably.

She cleared her throat. "Thank you, for bringing me home last night. You can go now." She said, suddenly very embarrassed.

When he didn't move, she looked up at him to see that he was smirking. He lifted the paper and pen, then wrote in big letters for her to see.

 _Not a chance. Get dressed. I'll make breakfast._

Before she could process what he was saying, he was up and out the door.

She only smiled a little, she swears.

 **R &R! **

**-LHG :)**


End file.
